


Facing Fears

by AngeNoir



Series: Inktober 2017 [10]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Fear, Implied Relationships, M/M, Magic, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-15 23:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12331053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/pseuds/AngeNoir
Summary: Instead of ambushing, they ended up being ambushed- and by a spell they had never met before,no less. Facing one's deepest, darkest fears wasn't fun at all, not for those that had been through the Great War, but then when Napoleon and Gaby regain their control, they realize Illya is gone.Inktober Drabble 9 = Universe: Avengers Academy / List: Steampunk / Prompt: "Wings"





	Facing Fears

**Author's Note:**

> Written for inktober, based on the prompt "The Bogle" from an Urban Fantasy Creatures list. (You can see [and prompt me!] my initial post about my inktober writings [here](http://outercorner.tumblr.com/post/165938959460/so-i-am-gonna-be-trying-this-inktober-thing-but).)

Illya was gone.

So there he was, still jumping at shadows, still feeling his heart race unconscionably fast, and doing his best to try and locate a four-legged creature that looked like the wolf from hell before the mundanes noticed something was wrong. Already Gaby was back at their hotel room, calling for a clean-up crew to remove the evidence of their battle.

... Calling it a battle may be an overstatement; they had been hoping to ambush the wizard, and had gotten ambushed themselves.

Finally, Napoleon had to concede defeat. He did not know how to track down a wolf-Kin who was determined not to be found. All he could do was hope that Illya would hide instead of attack.

He returned to the hotel, dragging himself up the stairs, trying not to hear Sanders’ voice in the back of his head, trying not to shudder at the feel of hands running over the roots of his tree, trying not to hear the screams of his unit as they died around him and he lived, he lived, he  _lived -_

_“Napoleon!”  
_

He jerked his head up, realizing he was standing outside Gaby’s room, shivering. She looked little better; she had taken the hotel’s luxurious robe and huddled into it, her hair wet and skin moist.

A hot shower may well help him steady his own nerves, come to think of it.

“Have you heard from Illya?” he asked, voice barely more than a croak.

She shook her head slowly. “You were out for a long time, Solo. You should get some rest. Waverly’s team can do clean-up and search for our lost comrade.”

With a sharp movement, Napoleon nodded and then exited the doorway, made his way to his own room. It took him a moment to fit the key to the lock, and then he opened the door.

In the middle of his room, tail curled so tightly between his legs that it almost disappeared entirely, ears flat against his head, shivering violently, was Illya.

Still in his wolf form; had Illya been standing upright, he would have reached Napoleon’s elbow with his shoulder. His teeth looked like dinner knives, and his fur was pitch black. Those ice-blue eyes looked... far away, as if they weren’t really  _present_ , which was a problem. If Illya was in his wolf-form, and unable to recognize Napoleon was there, he could snap and attack.

For a brief, half of a second, Napoleon considered retreating, either just staying with Gaby for the night, or at least bringing Gaby to his room. But Illya looked so beaten, so broken, and Napoleon knew what fears  _he_  had faced. He had no idea what Illya was facing, but he also knew that Illya had had his fair share of terror underneath the heavy-handed methods of his handler and the KGB.

Swallowing hard, he took a half-step forward, letting his feet fall heavily. “Illya, Illyusha, I have been looking for you. I cannot know what you are seeing, but I need to sit in my bed. I need to feel safe. Do you wish to come with me?”

Illya had flinched at the sound of Napoleon’s voice, but when Napoleon slowly began making his way to the bedroom, Illya crept behind him, eyes down submissively.

In the bedroom, Napoleon scrapped the idea of the shower and instead built up the fire. Illya was cringing against the far wall, but Napoleon ignored him to climb up onto the sinfully plush bed, burrow beneath the thick cloth.

The room was warm and toasty, and Napoleon had nearly dozed off, when the bed dipped. Napoleon had just enough presence of mind to shift and give Illya space. Illya wriggled closer, tunneling his head submissively under Napoleon’s side.

Napoleon didn’t know what Illya had seen, and it was unlikely Illya would tell him tomorrow, but for now, they were both here, and they were both safe, and that was enough to mark this as a win.


End file.
